


Kairos

by soulofme



Series: Youth [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basketball Player Levi, Childhood Friends, F/M, Gen, Growing Up, Levi-centric (Shingeki no Kyojin), M/M, Omega Eren Yeager, Tall Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), also unimportant, that's not really that important tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8831992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “It’s a boy,” she tells him proudly, tanned cheeks flushed with happiness, and she giggles when he looks at her rounded stomach with wonder. She smoothes a hand over the fabric of her dress and reaches down to pat his head. “You’ll be a good friend to him, won’t you?”He nods even though he doesn’t really understand what she means.





	

He is two when they move into the new neighborhood. It’s a sticky July night. Most of the families in the apartment complex are having dinner. He can hear high-pitched laughter floating out of one of the open window. He wonders what’s so funny.

His mother holds his tiny, sweaty hand in her larger one. His uncle helps them move in. They speak rapidly in the doorframe, boxes piled high around them, and he clutches his stuffed tiger to his chest. He can’t really understand what they’re saying.

His mother closes the door after her brother and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks are shiny in the dim yellow light of the hall. He stands up and pads over to her, handing out the little tiger as a peace offering, and she laughs.

“Things will be different now, my love,” she coos, reaching down to tuck a strand of his silky black hair behind his ear. “I promise you.”

**-**

He is three when he finally meets the neighbors next door. They’re a young couple, probably somewhere around his mother’s age, and they seem nice. They apologize profusely for not introducing themselves sooner. His mother laughs it off and invites them inside the apartment. The husband has just graduated from med school and the wife works as a real estate agent. She’s pregnant with their first child.

“It’s a boy,” she tells him proudly, tanned cheeks flushed with happiness, and she giggles when he looks at her rounded stomach with wonder. She smoothes a hand over the fabric of her dress and reaches down to pat his head. “You’ll be a good friend to him, won’t you?”

He nods even though he doesn’t really understand what she means. The wife smiles happily, sated, and his mother squeezes his shoulders softly.

The baby is born at the end of March. His name is Eren.

**-**

He is four when Eren tries to walk. He totters after him on unsteady feet, gummy mouth stretched out into a wet grin, hands grabbing at him. Eren is chubby and small, and he wonders why adults think it’s so cute.

“Hi,” the baby gurgles at him, fingers curled tight around his pants. “Hi!”

“He likes you,” the wife speaks up, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles. “That’s his first word, you know.”

He looks down at Eren. Eren blinks innocently at him before he sticks his hand into his mouth and begins to drool over it.

**-**

He is seven when Eren starts going to daycare. The wife comes over in a panic, her clothes hastily pulled on, and his eyes fall towards Eren. There’s a sunny grin on his little face, and he thinks it’s almost humorous how he can be so happy in a situation like this.

“I’m so sorry to ask this of you,” she says quickly, words clipped and short, and his mother tries her best to calm her down. “But my husband already left and I’m late to work and-”

“Don’t worry about it,” his mother says, laughing softly, and turns gentle eyes towards him. “You were just about to leave, right? Why don’t you walk Eren to the daycare?”

He glances at Eren yet again. The little boy beams happily.

Snatching his backpack off of the table, he makes his way out of the apartment. Eren squeaks indignantly before he races after him, sneakers smacking hard against the tiles in the hall. They take the stairs down, and when they get outside Eren all but pastes himself to his side.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, and Eren peers up at him. “Don’t walk so close to me.”

Eren walks all the way on the other side of the street until they reach his daycare.

**-**

He is eleven when he learns about secondary genders. The teacher explains it all in excruciating detail, and he watches as his classmates cringe and giggle at the more obscene topics. He himself sits quietly in his seat, perfectly poised, and doesn’t say a word.

After class, Erwin comes and sits by him. They’re on rather good terms. Saying they were friends would be a bit of a stretch.

“What do you think you’ll present as?” Erwin asks, blue eyes filled with curiosity, and he gives a half-hearted shrug.

“Beta, hopefully,” he mumbles, and Erwin throws his head back with a laugh. He scowls at the response.

“Alpha, actually,” Erwin says, and walks away before he can question what he means.

**-**

He is twelve when he signs up for basketball intramurals. The coach makes them line up in a straight line and introduce themselves. Each boy states his name and secondary gender. It’s mostly for the omegas and alphas, considering the heats and ruts. They’re too young to be prescribed suppressants, and it’s silently understood that the team will be made of mostly betas.

The coach stops in front of him. He has a large mole on the tip of his nose that is rather distracting. He gives his name and the coach furrows his eyebrows.

“Have you presented?” he asks.

He swallows hard.

“I haven’t presented yet, sir,” he says, and someone down the line snickers. Most boys presented around this age.

The coach says nothing, but there’s a hint of pity in his eyes.

**-**

He is thirteen when Eren first calls him weird. He sits there, stunned, while Eren continues scribbling something in his notebook. His throat feels tight, and he sits up abruptly in his seat. The dining chair squeaks against the floor, and when Eren looks up there’s confusion on his face.

“I’m…I’m not _weird_ ,” he says, tongue thick in his mouth, and Eren blinks innocently.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, ashamed, and rubs the back of his neck. “It's just…most people know what they are by now.”

He chooses not to reply. He heads home in a hurry, but he supposes it doesn’t make much of a difference when his apartment is right next door. His mother holds him close when he discloses his worry to her.

“Don’t be upset, my love,” she says soothingly, hands running softly through his hair. “You’re just a late bloomer.”

Late bloomer.

It sounds like a nice way of saying weird.

**-**

He is fourteen when he joins the junior varsity basketball team. There are some boys from intramurals that he recognizes. Erwin is there, and he smiles widely when he catches sight of him.

“Wow,” he says, blinking rapidly, “You’re really tall now. Guess you’re a natural basketball player, huh?”

He looks down at his lanky arms and knobby knees. He feels like a stranger in another person’s body. Even his mother had commented on his sudden growth spurt as she set a plate of warm, fluffy pancakes in front of him during breakfast.

“I guess,” he mumbles, and looks at Erwin. “You’re pretty tall too.”

Erwin shrugs. The coach calls for them to stretch. Patting his shoulder, he runs off to the sidelines.

Eren is waiting outside the complex when he gets home from practice. His hair is damp from sweat and he feels sticky. He shoots up when he catches sight of him, hands wringing before him in anticipation.

“I learned about secondary genders today,” he says, nose wrinkling up, and he shakes his head. “It was gross.”

They head upstairs to do their homework. Eren watches Power Rangers while he makes himself a sandwich. When Eren’s show finishes, he turns to him with a curious look.

“What do you think you’ll present as?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly, and Eren purses his lips in thought.

“I wanna be an alpha,” he declares determinedly, and laughs softly. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

He chooses not to answer.

Eren presents as an omega later that year. He presents as an alpha shortly after.

**-**

He is fifteen when he gets his first girlfriend. Her name is Petra Ral and she’s a senior. She’s very pretty, and kind, and everyone loves her. She looks at him like he means everything.

“How long have you been playing basketball?” she asks, running her hands over one of his trophies.

“A while,” he finally answers, abandoning his phone when he realizes he's being rude if he ignores her.

Petra hums quietly and sits gently on the edge of her bed. Her uniform skirt flows around her hips, and she smoothes out invisible wrinkles with her hands. Her warm eyes land on him. When she leans forward, he finds himself doing the same. Petra’s lips are soft and taste like candy. She giggles cutely when his cheeks turn flaming red. She says it felt nice. He doesn’t know how to tell her he doesn’t feel the same.

Their relationship neither progresses nor declines; they stay stagnant but happy, and he supposes he should be glad. Some of the boys on the team complain about their girlfriends and boyfriends. He stays quiet when they clap his back and congratulate him on scoring someone as perfect as Petra.

Petra breaks up with him right before she leaves for college. She says she wants to stay friends. He nods and says they will because it seems like the right thing to do.

He never bothers to answer her calls.

**-**

He is sixteen when Eren gets his first heat. He’s heard stories of alphas losing their cool at the slightest scent of a heat. But he doesn’t feel any of that carnal need rushing through his veins. His heart isn’t pounding in response to the sweet smell filling Eren’s tiny bedroom. He feels _something_ , but he doesn’t feel the urge to act on it. He’s content with sitting there and doing nothing.

He feels calm. His hands are cool and soothing against Eren’s forehead. Eren looks at him with blurry eyes, confusion shining through everything else, and he feels his throat get a little tighter.

“Aren’t you, you know, _affected_?”

“I am,” he says, voice cracking, and shrugs. “But…I’m okay. Guess you were right. I _am_ weird, huh?”

Eren frowns and presses his head firmly into his side. It’s a little painful, but it seems to soothe the wildfire raging throughout his body. Eren falls asleep after about ten minutes, and he finds himself wonder why his body isn’t reacting like it should.

**-**

He is seventeen when Eren asks him to a dance. He stands outside the apartment with his hands clasped and his eyes wide and pleading.

“I don’t want to look like a loser,” he says, voice soft, and his hands shoot forward to grip onto the sleeve of his shirt. “Please?”

“I have plans,” he says, and unlatches Eren’s fingers from around his arm. Eren pouts up at him, but he ignores it. “Go home.”

He escorts Eren to his school a few hours later because his parents are at work. Eren is uncharacteristically quiet. He walks on the other side of the street and won’t look at him.

“Have fun,” he calls, but Eren doesn’t reply.

Eren pauses in front of the school doors and turns to look at him. He looks small and vulnerable. He finds that something inside of him shifts, and before he knows it he’s joining him at the stairs.

“You so owe me,” he says, and Eren smiles bright enough to rival the sun.

The gymnasium is filled with fourteen year olds. He represses a shiver and stands up against the wall with one of the chaperones. Eren makes his way through the punch line a few times before he walks over and joins him.

“I thought we were going to be dancing,” he remarks offhandedly, and Eren shrugs slightly at the comment.

“I don’t wanna,” he says.

He looks down at him.

“Why’d you ask me to come, then?”

There’s another shrug, but his answer sounds firm and certain.

“You’re the only alpha I trust,” Eren replies, and if he notices how his cheeks turn red he doesn’t say anything.

**-**

He is eighteen when he quits the basketball team. The team bursts into instant protest at the announcement, claiming that no one will ever be able to replace him, but it all sounds like nothing but whining to him. Erwin approaches him as he’s cleaning out his locker, towel gripped tight in his hands.

“Why?” he asks.

“I lost interest,” he says, and stands up straight to look at him. He feels a little bit of pride when he realizes that he’s taller than the other alpha by a few inches.

Erwin scowls heavily.

“Bullshit,” he says derisively, and his knuckles go white with how hard he’s holding the towel now. “You’re quitting because we keep losing, aren’t you?”

He presses his lips together tightly.

“See you, Erwin,” he says. There’s something strangely final about it.

Erwin clenches his jaw.

“I always knew, you know,” he says languidly, as if to grab his attention, and he turns slowly to see what else Erwin has to say. “I always knew you were going to be an alpha.”

“Why are you bringing that up now?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, and Erwin shrugs.

“I thought we were the same back then,” Erwin mutters, looking strangely complacent, and he finds himself swallowing hard. “I thought we were a team.”

He doesn’t answer, but he knows Erwin’s aware of how far under his skin that comment gets.

**-**

He is nineteen when his mother calls him. He’s away at college, holed up in his dorm room studying, and the phone won’t stop ringing off the hook. He gets up and answers it even though he doesn’t want to.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, my love,” she says. Her voice sounds older, aged, and it has his breath catching in his throat. “How’s school?”

“It’s okay,” he says, and pauses. “Uh…how’re things are home?”

“Good, good,” his mother says, and she laughs quietly. “You should see Eren now. He’s filled out. He’s practically a man now!”

His cheeks flush red and he coughs softly into the receiver. His mother laughs.

“You should call him,” she adds, serious, and he holds his breath. “You two are close, aren’t you?”

“Were,” he says before he can stop himself, and he hears his mother inhale sharply from the other end.

“Did something happen?” she asks.

“No,” he says, and it’s the truth. “We just…grew up.”

**-**

He is twenty when he finally sees Eren again. His mother had been right the previous year; he _had_ filled out. He gets a brief image of Eren as a toddler clinging on to him for dear life, but it’s quickly replaced with the young man standing before him.

Eren’s hair is longer now. It curls around the nape of his neck, and most of it is shoved back into some poor attempt at a ponytail. There’s a tiny scar on his chin, and there’s a particular hardness in his eyes where they used to be soft. He supposes it can be attributed to the aging process, but he’s not quite sure that’s it.

“Hi,” he says shortly.

“Hi,” Eren replies, just as short, and before he knows it he’s being pulled into the familiar apartment.

Eren tells him about school, about his friends, and he listens attentively. Eren asks him if he’s found a mate. When he says he hasn’t, Eren snickers and replies that he hasn’t either.

“You’re the only alpha I trust,” he says, softly, and he sounds just how he had God knows how long ago.

“I know,” he says, almost smugly, and Eren’s eyes soften.

Their lips brush together chastely, more of a peck than an actual kiss, and there’s something almost childlike and innocent about it. Eren leans back into his bed and doesn’t say anything about it, just launches into another tale about school, and he finds himself curling on his side and watching him. His legs are too long to comfortably fit on Eren’s tiny mattress, but there’s something oddly nice about being in the room.

He supposes it has everything to do with Eren and little to do with the scratchy comforter beneath their bodies.

**-**

He is twenty-two when he gets his first rut. Things are different than when Eren had gotten his heat. He wants to give Eren all his has, all he _can_ , and Eren seems to want to take as much as he can get. They move together clumsily, uncoordinated and jerky, and when things finally grind to a halt it feels… _different_.

“Bond with me,” Eren mutters towards the dark ceiling of the bedroom. They have their own apartment now, an arrangement based solely on the need for independence, and he supposes it would be strange to others that they share an apartment. An alpha and an omega, unbonded, _living together_.

It’s one for the history books. Or, even worse, the nosy neighbors with nothing better to do than seek out the next juicy story to spread along the grapevine. It’s human nature, he tells himself, but the thought does little to comfort him.

“Okay,” he says, and Eren looks surprised. He doesn’t know if he should feel a touch offended that he expected an argument.

He doesn’t feel much different after they bond. A little warm, sure, but mostly the same. He wonders if there’s a word for this warm feeling. When he asks his mother, she laughs knowingly into the phone.

It takes him a while to figure out why.

**-**

He is twenty-three when Eren says he loves him. They’re still going on different paths, still doing their own thing, still _living together_ , and there’s something oddly comfortable about it. They spend a night in a bar complaining about their professors even though Eren can’t drink yet. He’s content with the tiny sips of beer he’s slipped, though, and all is well.

Eren cracks his back, muscles stretching and pulling, and seems satisfied when he hears a solid _pop_ float through the air. He sets his eyes on him, gentle and just as round as they’d been in childhood.

“I love you, Levi,” he says, and the sound of his name sounds sweet and shrouded in honey.

He doesn’t know what brought it up. His face gets vaguely warm all the same, though, and suddenly he feels like a teenager all over again. Eren sniggers at the sight and clutches his beer bottle around the neck, eyes sparkling behind his dark eyelashes, and smirks wide and sated.

“You’re the only alpha I trust,” Eren says, and there’s something else behind his words. Something soft, warm, and bright, and he feels like he’s standing in a spot of sunshine. Maybe it’s the bond between them. Maybe it’s Eren. He’s isn’t sure. But he knows the word for this feeling, for his incredible warmth, and it washes over him in waves.

“I know,” he says, and his voice sounds a little thick. “Love you, too.”


End file.
